


today's another day to find you

by brodinsons (aeon_entwined)



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Family Feels, Half-Sibling Incest, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-20 04:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19986064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/brodinsons
Summary: Arthur never asked to be king. But that doesn't meant he isn't going to rise to the occasion when everyone is counting on him.





	today's another day to find you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mashimero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashimero/gifts).



> This is my gift in the [DCEU Fanworks Exchange ](https://dceu-exchange.dreamwidth.org/)! I got assigned to my lovely friend [Mashi](https://mashimero.tumblr.com/) for this year's event. I had some issues with writer's block but the fish brothers wanted to say their piece so here it is! I hope you enjoy it, Mashi! ❤

“When you’re ready-“

Their eyes meet—brief but intent—before Orm lowers his gaze and Arthur can exhale.

“-let’s talk.”

++++++++++++

With his brother dethroned and the threat of casualties in the millions averted, at least for now, Arthur thinks he should be a little more concerned about the degree to which his own life has been upended.

He’d told Mera at the beginning that he’d stop the war, if he could, and that was it. He wasn’t planning on sticking around. At all. Now, here he is: the king of the underwater civilization he deliberately cut himself off from for twenty years. Over something that, in the end, proved to be not quite as it seemed. He knows full well he has no fucking clue what he’s doing. And that’s just one of a whole host of reasons he thanks whatever gods are out there every day that his mom is back. Beyond all reason and possibility, Atlanna is here and alive. She grounds him when he’s about to send himself into a spiral and effortlessly assumes a role she’d been cast down from twenty years ago by a man Arthur’s growing to hate like few people he ever has in his life.

As the days go by, most of his thoughts are occupied by his brother; locked away and guarded in his old rooms in the palace. Arthur refused to have him moved to the cells below the seafloor, on the recommendation of the captain of the guard. Vulko had promised Orm a view, after all.

It’s at the end of day seven that he makes his way down the hall and past the twin guards appointed to either side of the room beyond. Despite his lack of summons, Arthur tilts his head and gestures carefully.

“Leave us.”

The guards execute quick half-bows in unison and move off together.

Arthur takes a slow breath as he stares at the locked door. Their mom said she’s visited several times, though said visits never last that long. Apparently Orm doesn’t know what to say. So her attempts at bridging that two-decade gap shared between them all are butting up against some resistance. And she isn’t sure why. So...here he is. Even though he’d wanted to wait until Orm was ready to call him, he can’t help the instinctive urge of those latent instincts still buried in him to comfort the baby brother he’d always wished to meet.

_You were the reason our mother was executed. And I’ve hated you for it ever since._

Arthur shakes himself and reaches out to rap his knuckles against the thick door.

“Hey,” he raises his voice enough to be heard, then grips the door’s locking mechanism to open it. “You decent in there, little brother?”

No answer.

He waits a little longer, just to err on the side of politeness, then nudges the door aside with a shrug. 

There’s barely enough time for the door to slide shut once he’s across the threshold before Arthur finds himself grabbed by a pair of inhumanly strong hands and shoved up against the nearest convenient wall. Something falls off a shelf near his elbow and though he flinches in anticipation of the sound of shattering glass, it takes a minute to remember they’re underwater.

“I don’t recall extending an invitation, _brother_ ,” Orm hisses against his ear and Arthur finds himself swallowing convulsively despite the fact that Orm isn’t actually in a position of power here and the guards could reach them in a matter of seconds.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all, but even now, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have fared any better against Orm in their fights. His little brother might be smaller, but he’s everything Vulko said he was: a warrior practically trained from birth. Plus, there’s the full-blooded Atlantean advantage in there too. 

Being up against someone who can not only hurt him but potentially best him is a dizzying feeling he’s completely unaccustomed to. He’s not sure if he likes it, yet.

“I know,” he manages, lifting both hands in a show of peace. “She said I should come. So I did. Here I am.”

Orm sneers at him in the room’s low lighting, those pale eyes of his almost illuminated from somewhere within. 

“Weaponizing the shared source of our trauma, mm?”

Arthur swallows again, but doesn’t lower his hands. “She loves you,” he says, utterly earnest. “She loves both of us. She’s just...she’s trying. That’s all.”

The hands finally release him and Orm moves back with an expression of what probably says disgust. Or just annoyance. Arthur hasn’t quite figured out how to read him yet.

“You don’t strike me as the type to unquestioningly obey orders, no matter how politely they’re phrased.” Orm floats away, aiming for a table covered in containers of what Arthur now knows to be Atlantean alcohol. “Why are you really here, Arthur?”

Arthur exhales a massive rush of cool water, letting himself float down until the soles of his boots rest lightly on the floor of the room. That’s another thing he’s noticed that separates him from a good deal of Atlantis: his habit of moving like he’s still on the surface. Orm’s intent tracking gaze tells him it hasn’t escaped his brother’s notice either.

“I have no idea what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing, man,” he says after a moment or two of somewhat tense silence. “I told Vulko I didn’t want to be king from day one, and here I am. You know I’m not fit for it. They know I’m not. I need help.”

Orm’s expression goes somewhat shark-like for a brief moment before smoothing back out into indifference.

“And so you come to the deposed king for wisdom? Am I interpreting that babble correctly?”

Arthur sighs. He knew this would be fraught—and he was right—but he also knows Orm will be taking advantage of every opportunity to needle him. To try and get another rise out of him. It worked pretty flawlessly the first time.

“I’m coming to you so we can work _together_ ,” Arthur says through lightly clenched teeth. “All I ever wanted was my little brother, man. Not the crown, not Atlantis, just you.”

The vehemence behind the words surprises him as much as it apparently surprises Orm. His brother blinks at him a few times, seemingly at a temporary loss for words. The silence settles over both of them and Arthur casts about somewhat desperately for something to say.

Then, Orm beats him to it.

“You’re genuine, then.”

Arthur nods, too tired to try to read into the layers of what Orm’s asking. He’s never been any good at acting anyways. Why try to start now?

“I...thought you were playing at something, before. It’s not common, here, to be lacking artifice the way you do.”

“Trust me, little brother, you’re looking in the wrong place if you’re looking for _artifice_.”

Orm’s expression shifts to something almost taken aback. And it doesn’t smooth back out into indifference this time.

“Why do you call me that?” He tilts his head in a way that makes him look like a curious big cat.

Arthur blinks at him, then shakes his head. “I told you in the fuckin’ ring of fire, man. You’re my baby brother. Always have been, always will be.”

Orm’s eyes widen slightly and he seems to drift closer without any conscious effort. Arthur watches him closely, distracted by the way his pale eyes catch and refract the light sources in the vast royal room.

“I was going to kill you,” Orm says, strangely unsteady.

Arthur nods, exhaling a low sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

“That doesn’t...bother you?”

“Your dad was a fucking asshole and you got your ass beat your whole life so I’m kinda inclined to cut you some slack, there.” Arthur crosses his arms and settles his weight more comfortably on his feet.

Orm tenses up at the mention of Orvax—as Arthur knew he would—but he masters himself with a ruthlessness that intimidates Arthur on several levels. 

“You are….I’m not entirely certain that I have the language to describe what you are,” he murmurs, still staring directly at Arthur.

Arthur chuckles, wry.

“Half-breed?”

Orm winces this time, and finally glances away. The tension dissipates somewhat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quiet.

Arthur waves a hand. “Water under the bridge, little brother. I’m used to it. Trust me.”

Silence settles in the room again, but it feels more comfortable than before. They’re reaching some sort of a middle ground, or at least something close to one.

Orm goes so far as to drift down and settle on his feet on the floor as well, though he looks uncomfortable with it. Almost like watching a shark being forced to remain stationary when its every instinct is telling it to swim away as quickly as possible.

“Why insist that I’m your brother?” He asks, drawing Arthur’s gaze up from the floor. “I tried to kill you. Multiple times, at that. I went so far as to hire a surface dwelling killer to hunt you down. Is all of that just...meaningless to you?”

Arthur nods, taking a small amount of satisfaction in Orm’s forthright confession about Black Manta. 

“I cheated you out of your win, first off,” Arthur says, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “Then I got my hands on great-great granddad’s fancy magic trident thanks to a whole bunch of mumbo-jumbo bullshit. Mera’s bailed my ass out of more shit than I care to count. And same with Mom, now.

“It’s not that I don’t _care_ that you tried to kill me, Orm. It’s that I understand the situations we were in and I understand all the reasons you have to hate me. That’s it.”

He lets his arms fall to his sides and offers a wry shrug. It’s just...he’s so tired. He hasn’t felt this tired in years and he doesn’t have the energy to try and deflect.

Orm’s back to staring at him. His expression looks caught between lifting a rock and discovering something horrifying underneath or getting smacked in the face with a door when he was least expecting it.

Arthur wilts slightly, finally letting the water take a bit of his weight. 

Then, before he can even brace himself, Orm closes the distance between them faster than Arthur can blink and grabs two handfuls of his hair before dragging him into a messy clash of teeth that could barely be called a kiss. At least until he forcibly gentles it enough to actually utilize his lips instead. Then it’s...almost nice.

“Um-“ Arthur stutters once they separate, eyes gone round in shock.

Orm stares back at him from too close, equally shocked. His lips are red, and Arthur can’t help flicking his gaze down to stare at them.

“I-I’m sorry, I-“

Arthur moves on pure reflex, grabbing Orm’s nape and dragging him into a proper kiss before he can second guess himself.

They part after a long moment, and Arthur deliberately moves to hold eye contact with him. 

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he growls. “Yeah?”

Orm nods, wordless, then sags into him so their brows come to rest against each other. All the fight goes out of him, like a puppet with its strings abruptly cut.

Arthur gathers his little brother into his arms and holds on as tight as he dares.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he says after a moment, squeezing Orm’s nape. “I fuckin’ swear. We’re gonna be okay.”

Orm nods against his shoulder, fingertips digging sharply into Arthur’s back. 

The silence stretches a bit, until-

“Can I take you out of here?”

“ _...what?_ ”

Arthur pulls back to take Orm by the shoulders. “This room. Can I take you out of it?”

Orm stares at him, uncomprehending. “Attempted regicide, Arthur. I’m currently imprisoned.”

“Yeah. And I’m the king. And I’m saying I’m taking you out of here.”

The disbelieving laugh that croaks out is better than the confused glare he was expecting.

“So you are.” Orm smiles wryly.

Arthur grins back at him, then reaches over to grab his wrist and pull him towards the doors. In a complete turnaround from the despondent defeat he’d faced not too long ago, he feels like he could do anything. 

He feels like _they_ can do anything.


End file.
